We all woke up from the freakish nightmare of Matty G taking 6 wickets (then writing a match report all about it!) to a more heartening episode of pure farce this week – but more on that later. 

At about 10am I got the text from the skipper that he was stuck in traffic and might be late, so I should pick up Praneet, win the toss, and bowl – in that order. Of course, being the designated “Miami” how could I refuse? My three pronged mission accomplished, Sloth duly rocked up just before we took the field. Matty told everyone he would be taking the bottom end (oi oi!) as he had (yawn...) apparently taken 6 wickets from it the week before. Really Matt? You should have said something... 

Of course, he then bowled from the top end as James claimed left armer's privilege against the undefeated Sulhampstead, and bowled up the hill. Matt did get the first over however, and stand in stumper Our John looked confident enough as Matt ran in and bowled a short wide one first up. John looked confident as the batsman nicked a cut, confident as it travelled straight into his waiting gloves, confident as it bounced out again and hit the turf, whereupon he confidently told everyone there was no edge. That the other ten fielders, the batsman and the umpire all disagreed was neither here nor there, apparently. It was about then it occurred to me – Welford is a weird club. 

Matt settled into his line and length, but the ever present danger of no ball was there in the occasional stutter in his run up. But more on that shortly. James dropped a few short early on as he struggled for rhythm, but ever the class act, he found hit his stride and yorked the cockier of the two public schoolboys opening the batting. And I quote; “Excuse me umpire, I think that hit the grass in front of the fence, shouldn't that be 4 runs?” I – very politely, of course – pointed out that this was not a debating society, and was like the rest of us very pleased to see the back of the cocky little blighter. The second opener, already on one life, then showed excellent judgment in clearly hearing Paul call “No Ball” and inside edging a drive at Matt onto his stumps. Life number 2. Matt of course decided it was our Umpire Paul's fault he over-stepped, but if you thought he was irritated now, you should have seen him when he duly bowled the same batsman in the same way the very next over – off another no ball. Matt was furious (with Paul, the batsman, a flock of passing birds and the harsh financial climate – anything except himself for no-balling), but I'd be lying if there wasn't an underlying sense of mirth amongst the rest of us – and the batsman, now on his third life. 

Welford really is a weird club, I said to James between overs. 

Oh, and then Sloth took Matt off to bring himself on, and Matt of course took it with good grace. Sloth then demolished the Sulhampstead line-up, with first seam then spin, to end up with 5 wickets, but try telling Matt it was a good bowling change... 

James was replaced by Herro, and after one good catch by James to dismiss one batsman, that pesky opener – yep, he's still there – skied one in his direction, but some confusing calls put him off and it hit the turf. Life number 4, and now the little sod was in the 30s, which had us all debating the worst/luckiest 50s we'd ever seen. Sloth then had him – finally – tee up an absolute sitter, as the batsman misjudged the flight and looped a gentle catch to a waiting Herro at midwicket. Herro confidently watched the ball into his hands, then confidently – you know the rest. Life number 5. BUT – 2 balls later, the ridiculous became the sublime as Spike, at an ingeniously placed fly slip, took a catch reminiscent of a young Ian Botham, pulling a flying edge out of the sky whilst diving up and to his right as the ball was almost passed him. Best catch I've seen for a couple of seasons, no doubt. And no 6^th life, no 50 for the opener, who seemed relieved to get off the field! 

Herro and Sloth demolished the middle order and a Welford-esque collapse meant that Sulhampstead went from 82-2 (ish) at about 6 and over to all out 105 off about 25 overs. And I thought to myself, Welford is a weird club.

PS – I won't mention the opposition Captain, a Kiwi named Bruce (what's that about?), showing a massive lack of sense, courtesy, or even the presence of a brain when he wasn't padded up, took ages to get padded up, then strolled to the wicket with no effort to hurry despite warnings, and was only saved by Sloth's excellent show of sportsmanship from being timed out. Moral high ground to Welford (although Herro and Matt, a strange alliance I think you'll agree, both felt otherwise). Fortunately, Bruce is a crap batsman, and it didn't hold us up for long. 

Now in a game bursting with Blue Stripe moments, the winning gem occurred shortly after Welford took to the field before tea to begin their reply, as our Bruce, neither Kiwi nor Aussie (possibly more Netherlands on this showing) left a lovely innocuous straight ball. He confidently lifted his bat out of the way, confidently watched the ball onto his stumps, then confidently swore and buggered off to the changing room. Weird club, that Welford.

Despite a few rash shots and daft dismissals, Park scored at a phenomenal rate, and when Will and John (“he never nicked that first ball, you know”) were together at the crease, it was like watching a 20-20 in fast forwards as the ball disappeared all over the ground. Sadly, both were out after quality cameos, and despite a very odd decision to come in for tea rather than finish it off, Park won by – er... several wickets – shortly after the break. And they all lived happily ever after.